


What You Need

by Menolly, petitecuriosity



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menolly/pseuds/Menolly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/petitecuriosity/pseuds/petitecuriosity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AN AU to the end of 'Help Me'. Both Cuddy and Wilson go to House's apartment, and find him on the verge of relapsing. They help him deal with the situation, and come to a realisation of how important they are to each other. A House/Wilson/Cuddy OT3 fic. Was a one-shot, now with an additional chapter where they all wake up in House's bed and things progress from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_"That's the point! I did everything right. She died anyway."_

House yells at Foreman until he gets the hell out of his way. He limps out of the hospital, holding onto his thigh. He left his cane back at the accident site, along with his bike. His shoulder is throbbing, every muscle in his body is aching and his leg is screaming at him in silent protest at the way he's treated it today. He barely manages to drag himself to the first cab on the rank.

_"I'm moving on. Wilson is moving on. And you... You've got nothing, House, nothing."_

Cuddy was right. She has Lucas, Wilson has Sam, and he has nothing.

He cut off Hanna's leg. He had to listen to her screams of pain as the saw cut through her flesh and bone. He mutilated her, he'd done nothing but cause her pain, and she'd _died anyway_. Nothing changed, nothing ever fucking changed.

He's sick of it, he's sick of trying.

He's done. It's over.

His fingers flex, fingers gripping something that can't be seen. He looks down at them and closes his fist. Soon, very soon.

* * *

Wilson trudged back to his office, head down and feet dragging. It had been a long, chaos filled day. He'd been helping out in emergency for most of it, dealing with the crane collapse victims. He was weary, and looking forward to going home.

Well, if he was honest with himself, he wasn't looking forward to going home so much. He and Sam had had dinner reservations for about three hours ago, to celebrate their wedding anniversary. He had thought it was a bizarre thing to be celebrating, considering how that marriage ended. Sam seemed to think it was appropriate, or she had at the start of the day anyway. Now she might feel differently. He'd rung her when it had become apparent he wouldn't be able to leave the hospital on time, but she had sounded cool on the phone.

He had hoped that things would be different this time, that he could escape the same old patterns that had formed with his ex-wives, and all his other relationships. That, this time, he might be able to make it work.

He'd asked House to leave to give his second chance with Sam the best chance of succeeding, but already he could see the fraying around the edges. He couldn't even blame it on Sam. He _could_ have left the hospital earlier, if Sam had been more important to him than his work; there _were_ other doctors. He'd chosen to stay.

No, he realised, what he wanted right now wasn't to go home to Sam and her frosty reception and try to placate her with charm, smiles and sex. He wanted to go home and sit on the couch, eat take-out, drink some beer and watch one of House's stupid soaps with him. He'd missed that. He'd missed House.

He hadn't heard from House since his phone call earlier in the day - when House had asked him to investigate what was happening with Lucas and Cuddy. He knew House had stayed at the accident site, probably to keep an eye on Cuddy as much as to help. There had been the usual intermittent dramas with his team back at the hospital as they worked on the crane driver, but House hadn't appeared. He'd probably gone straight home from the site, avoiding any of that nasty emergency room work he hated.

He got to his office and gathered up his case and his jacket and headed back out, glancing into the conference room next door. Foreman was just coming out of the door, dressed in scrubs, and looking as tired as Wilson felt.

"Did you see House?" Foreman asked, foregoing any pleasantries.

"Haven't seen him all day, had one phone call from him. Did you save your patient?"

Foreman nodded, but his face was creased with worry. "House is in a bad way. He came in with a patient in an ambulance. A woman whose leg he amputated at the site. She was trapped underground and House had been with her for hours. She died on the way in. Fat embolism."

An amputation. Wilson closed his eyes briefly. He could, with little effort, summon up a mental picture from Foreman's words.

"He has a nasty gash on his shoulder too, he's bleeding. I'm worried that..." Foreman trailed off and Wilson finished the thought.

"You think he's going to do something stupid rather than deal with his what he's feeling like a mature adult. Good guess."

"He was in a bad way," Foreman repeated his earlier statement, "said he did everything right and she still died. I tried to stop him from leaving but ---" he shrugged.

"And now you want me to go check on him." Wilson said. Of course he did.

"You're his friend, and you're the only person he'll listen to - you know that."

There wasn't a choice to be made, not really, House was his friend, and he needed him. Wilson went quickly to his car and drove out of the parking lot, heading for House's apartment. He couldn't help flashing back to the Christmas Eve when he had found House overdosed and lying in his own vomit. He put his foot down and drove faster.

* * *

“Higher!” Rachel squealed as Lucas lifted her high above his head, making airplane noises as he bounced with her across the room.

Cuddy sighed, chin perched on her hand and legs curled up under her as she sat on the couch. Her hair was still in a messy ponytail, her cheeks streaked with dirt, and she hadn't yet changed out of her pink scrubs. The book House had given her felt heavy in her lap as she lightly traced her fingertips along the spine. She couldn't believe he'd gone to the trouble of finding a book written by her great-grandfather. It had been a nice gesture, even if it were entirely uncharacteristic for him.  
 _What are you clinging to, House? You're gonna risk her life just to save her leg? Really worked out well for you, didn't it? What do you have in your life, honestly? Tell me. I'm moving on. Wilson is moving on. And you... You've got nothing, House, nothing._

Cuddy sighed softly. She knew her words had been harsh, but she had grown weary over the years of House's constant selfishness, cruelty, and unwillingness to even try to change his circumstances. He was constantly miserable, and she was tired of House dragging her down with him.

_I'm in pain... Every day. It changed me. Made me a harder person, a worse person. And now... Now I'm alone._

Cuddy winced slightly, biting her lower lip. She knew that House was in chronic pain, and she knew that it made him nearly unbearable to be around, most of the time. In fact, over the years, plenty of people had told him as much. She supposed that she had never really considered that their words had been listened to, that it had even mattered enough to him to listen.

_You don't want to be like me. You’ve got a husband who loves you. You have friends. You can start a family. You have a life. And this... This is just a leg._

Cuddy curled her fingers around the front cover of the book, running her thumb along the edge. She flipped the book open, and once again read the inscription that House had written, it oddly appearing as if he'd taken the time to write it neatly.

_To Lisa and Lucas. Here’s to a new chapter. Best. Greg._

Cuddy brushed her fingers across the pen strokes, gazing upward as she heard Rachel giggle as she rode on Lucas' back.

“Horsie! Horsie!” she chanted.

Cuddy's eyes fell back to the book as she retraced the letters over and over. She had no idea how he even managed to find this book, let alone one that was in such pristine condition. She thought back to the day when she'd walked into her office to find the desk she'd used in college, sitting in place of the one she'd been using since she became Dean of Medicine at PPTH. Both gifts had been entirely unexpected, thoughtful. His attention to detail never failed to amaze her.

He'd had a dream about a patient whom he claimed to have never met before, but remembered that he had been Cuddy's date at one of the hospital dinners. Despite the perverseness of his comments on her attire, he always acknowledged the effort she put into her appearance, and made her feel attractive, even if she'd never let him know that. He'd helped her with hormone injection shots when she was trying to get pregnant, and she knew that she wouldn't have trusted anyone else to do that, to see her that vulnerable, know that he'd still look at her the same way afterward.

She ran her thumb along Lucas' and her joined names, eyes lingering on “Greg,” the name seeming to sit apart from the other words.  
“Hey, what you got there?” Lucas asked, breaking Cuddy out of her thoughts.  
Cuddy looked up to find Rachel sitting on Lucas' shoulders. She glanced back to the book on her lap before closing it and setting it down on the couch. She stood, collecting Rachel into her arms.

“Everything okay?” Lucas inquired.

Cuddy sighed softly, reaching into her pocket. She'd told House that she'd left her engagement ring in her desk so that she wouldn't lose it at the crane collapse. Everybody lies. She pulled out the band of gold with the diamond gem on top, and took Lucas’ hand in hers.

“I'm sorry,” she said quietly, kissing his cheek as she let the ring fall into his hand. She carried Rachel out to the car, dialing Marina's number.

* * *

After dropping Rachel off at Marina's house, Cuddy drove toward the hospital, barely aware that her pocket was empty. She parked in her designated space before entering the hospital lobby. Her heart raced with nervousness, but she didn't allow it to show as she walked with her shoulders squared and her back straight, still appearing dignified despite her current disheveled appearance. She approached the ER, figuring that House would likely be with Hanna, or at least be lingering nearby. As she looked around, she saw no sign of either Hanna or House.

She finally found Foreman, and asked him about the patient.

“Hanna's dead,” Foreman told her simply, “fat embolism in the ambulance.”

Cuddy saw more than just sadness over the loss of a life in his eyes.

“House took it hard; I asked Wilson to check on him.”

Cuddy swallowed thickly. She mumbled a quick “thank you,” to Foreman before heading out back to her car, and driving toward House's apartment. The nervousness she had felt before was replaced by a different, chilling fear. She hoped that House hadn't been alone for too long. She hoped he hadn't done something stupid.

* * *

By the time Wilson pulled his car up outside House's apartment he'd started imagining all sorts of worst case scenarios. He parked illegally and sprung out of the car. His cell was vibrating in his pocket and he pulled it out long enough to glance at it. Sam, not House. He shoved the thing back where it came from and ran up the stairs to the familiar door.

The door was open, and as he entered the apartment he heard glass smashing.

He sprinted through the living room and down the hallway. House was there, in the bathroom, the shattered remains of a mirror littered the floor and the bath tub. In the hole where the mirror used to be Wilson could see two bottles of Vicodin.

He'd cleaned the place out while House was in Mayfield, finding bottles hidden in every conceivable hiding place but he hadn't been desperate enough to rip a mirror off a wall and look behind it.

House had been that desperate.  
"No!" Wilson called out, before he realised he was going to do so. House looked around at him, and Wilson felt a tremor of fear go through him at the look in House's eyes. The man looked like hell; dirty, dusty and covered in small scrapes and cuts.

"Go away, Wilson." House said flatly. "Go back to Sam." There was a note of bitterness in his voice that made Wilson wince.

"Don't... don't do this, House. You've worked so hard..."

"What's the _point_?" House yelled at him, and stared back at the bottle, still sitting in the little alcove. Then he looked back at Wilson, despair in his eyes. "What's the point when nothing ever changes? I've done everything Nolan told me to, _everything_. I tried! It doesn't make any difference, it never will. Nothing ever changes. I cut off a woman's leg today. Did you hear that? I cut off her leg while she screamed at me to stop. I did it to save her life, and she died anyway. She fucking died, Wilson!"

He turned around and grabbed one of the bottles. Wilson lunged at him, his hand going around House's where it gripped the bottle tightly. House shoved him away, trying to get him to let go and overbalanced. He fell to the ground heavily and took Wilson with him.

They ended up in a tangle of arms and legs, the Vicodin came loose and rolled across the floor. House reached a hand out for it and Wilson knocked it aside.

"Wilson, get the fuck off me!" House yelled, his gaze on the pills.

"No! I'm not going to let you go down that road again. You start taking Vicodin again, you'll be killing yourself. I'm not going to let that happen."

House pushed against him, but Wilson held tight, keeping himself between House and the Vicodin.

"What do you care? You have Sam, you've moved on, you don't need me." There was a catch in his voice, and a hollowness. Wilson knew he'd only have one shot at bringing House back from the brink.

"I do need you, House. I'll always need you. You're all I have."

House stopped his struggling and stared at him, surprise in his expression. Their faces were inches apart and Wilson knew the truth of his statement would be evident to House.

"Wilson... " House said, his voice quiet.

"House!" A female voice sounded through the apartment, followed by the sound of running footsteps. Cuddy appeared in the doorway, her eyes widening in shock as she took in the sight of the two of them on the floor, the bottle of Vicodin and the glass shards that covered everything.

House gaped at Cuddy, then quickly glanced back to Wilson.

“I’m hallucinating,” he whispered, arms falling to his sides, all of the fight of just a few moments ago draining out of him.

Cuddy’s eyes quickly fell to the orange vial laying by the bathtub.

“You relapsed?” she asked quietly.

“What the hell do you care?” House spat, but his voice came out more raw, exhausted.

Wilson slid discreetly off of House, holding up the two full orange vials.

“You didn’t,” he said, shaking them for emphasis before slipping them into his pocket. He began to clean up the remains of the mirror.

Cuddy frowned, noticing a wet spot soaking through House’s t-shirt. She knelt down to examine it further, reaching a hand out, only to have House pull away.

“Don’t,” he whispered.

“You’re bleeding,” Cuddy told him. “You need to--”

“I know what I need to do,” House snapped.

Wilson knelt down beside Cuddy, a first-aid kit in hand. He slipped an arm beneath House’s shoulders, expecting him to protest. When House merely continued to look at the floor, Wilson nodded toward Cuddy. Together, they lifted House to his feet and began guiding him to the bedroom.

House didn’t put up a fight as they eased him down into a sitting position on the bed. He knew that once morning fell, Wilson would be back with Sam and Cuddy would be back with Lucas. This had to all be a hallucination, his mind’s cruel way of welcoming him back into the dark shadows of his addiction.

He winced as he felt Wilson’s fingertips curling around the hem of his shirt, brushing against his skin. Wilson lifted House’s shirt up and over his head, setting it aside. House looked up briefly to see Cuddy slowly removing the bandage that he had hastily placed over the wound on his shoulder.

Wilson had already soaked a few cotton balls with disinfectant. He placed them in Cuddy’s hand.

“Thanks,” Cuddy told Wilson, smiling up at him gently. She curled her hand around his and squeezed, a silent understanding spoken between them. She began blotting at House’s cut.

Wilson took out a piece of gauze and tape, handing them to Cuddy when she’d finished cleaning House’s wound. She rebandaged it carefully, smoothing out the wrinkles, allowing her fingers to linger just a bit longer than necessary. When House’s eyes met hers, she quickly pulled them away.

“Why are you here?” House asked her. “Or maybe a better question would be, are you even here?”

His eyes darted around the room, fully expecting to see Amber, hear that familiar sinister giggle.

“You didn’t take the Vicodin,” Wilson reiterated. He slipped his hands into his pockets, running his thumbs over the fully capped vials. “You’re not hallucinating.”

House stared at both his friends, they seemed very real. Wilson's body had been pressed against his, on the floor, and Cuddy's gentle hands had tended to his wounds. But Cuddy had seemed real the last time too. She'd sat with him while he detoxed, she'd held him, she'd loved him. His own mind had tricked him into believing something that had never happened. He'd remembered every minute of the time they'd spent together and every feeling. It had been utterly real, until it hadn't been.

He remembered the crushing loss of realising that just when he thought he was on the brink of a new life, of a way out of his misery, it had all been a cruel trick of his mind. He'd still been alone.

Now he didn't know what to believe.

His mind was fogged, his body was aching and he was utterly exhausted. Wearily he shook his head and decided to treat this as real. Maybe in reality he was sitting on the floor of his bathroom, alone, in a drugged haze, but he'd take this anyway. Cuddy and Wilson, here, together, with him. No Sam, no Lucas.

"You need to get some rest," Cuddy said and then Wilson was there, with a clean tee-shirt which he helped House pull over his head. He went to House's belt and began loosening it. House stared dully at him, unable to even raise a quip. Wilson finished with the belt and undid House's jeans, slipping them down to his ankles and then off after removing his shoes.

"Not tonight, dear, I have a headache," House finally managed and Wilson laughed softly.

"Maybe another night then."

House felt that peculiar moment of hope, and fear, that he'd felt when Wilson had been trying to restrain him earlier.

 _You're all I have_ , Wilson had said.

He felt a blanket descend over his battered body and then Cuddy was there, fussing over it, and him.

"Get some sleep, House. You've had a rough day." Her hands were gentle as she tucked it around him and he allowed himself to feel the comfort in the gesture. His eyes met Wilson's again and he saw a calm reassurance there.

"I thought you'd gone," he said to them. Cuddy to Lucas, and Wilson to Sam. When he'd lost Hanna he'd thought he was alone - that he had nothing. Now they were both here.

"We're not going anywhere," Cuddy said.

His last sight before his eyes closed and he fell asleep was of the two of them standing over his bed, keeping him safe.

He hoped that he could still see them when he woke up.

* * *

"What happened today, out there?" Wilson asked Cuddy as he bent over the bathtub, cleaning it of all the pieces of shattered glass that covered the surface. Trust House to make everything a dramatic gesture.

"We hurt each other." Cuddy was sitting on the edge of the tub, as if she didn't have the strength to move. She'd apparently found some time to clean up after returning from the disaster site but she looked bone weary.

Wilson smiled ruefully. "That tends to happen, with House."

"I told him we were moving on, you and I. That we were going on with our lives without him. I told him he had nothing." She stared into space, reliving the moment.

Wilson frowned, but he knew it wasn't like he hadn't said the same sort of things to House before. That he'd end up alone and miserable.

"You told him we'd moved on, and yet here you are."

"He's a hard man to move on from." Cuddy said, her gaze going to her hand. "I broke it off with Lucas tonight."

Wilson stared at her. House had told him earlier in the day that Cuddy and Lucas were moving in together. Now Cuddy had left him?

Cuddy’s eyes rose to meet Wilson’s. Wilson’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink as he returned to busying himself with cleaning up the shards of glass.

“Does Sam know you’re here?” Cuddy asked him.

“No,” Wilson replied quietly without looking up at her. He winced, drawing in a sharp breath as he sliced the pad of his index finger on one of the glass pieces. He pushed himself to his feet, his knee brushing against Cuddy’s as he turned to run his finger under the sink faucet. Once the wound was clean, he shut off the water, and began fumbling around in the medicine cabinet for a bandage.He could still feel Cuddy’s gaze on him as he struggled to open the paper packaging.

Cuddy gently placed her hand over Wilson’s, allowing it to linger before she took the bandage and opened it for him. She tore off the pieces of paper, wrapping the bandage around his finger. She pressed down a little to ensure that the cut would clot.

“Thanks,” Wilson mumbled.

“No problem,” she replied, her fingers still pressed to his.

Cuddy blushed, lips parting to say something when she and Wilson heard a groan and thump coming from House’s room. Wilson exchanged a concerned glance with Cuddy before they both quickly rushed to House’s bedside.

House’s face glistened with sweat, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Pathetic whimpers escaped him as he thrashed around on the bed, muttering incoherently. Wilson placed his hand on House’s shoulder, only to have House violently knock it away.

“House,” Cuddy tried gently.

“Not...real,” House ground out.

Wilson eased down beside House, gripping both of his shoulders to still him.

“House,” he said, a bit louder than Cuddy had.

House froze beneath his touch. Wilson remained unmoving, studying House closely. He couldn’t be entirely sure whether House was awake or still asleep. When House finally opened his eyes, Cuddy breathed a sigh of relief.

Wilson swallowed thickly. He could see that House’s eyes were moist and red around the edges. He suspected House had been on the verge of tears, and knew he was right when House tore his gaze away from him.

“It’s okay,” Wilson told him quietly, feeling the bed dip as Cuddy sat down on House’s other side.

“Thought you moved on,” House said hoarsely.

Wilson worried his bottom lip. He wondered if House had forgotten what happened earlier, or if he still thought he was hallucinating. He grabbed House’s wrist, placing House’s palm against his own chest.

House’s cheeks reddened, but he didn’t make any move to pull away, didn’t say another word.

“You’re not hallucinating,” he told House softly.

Cuddy placed her hand on House’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly. A heavy silence fell over the room before Wilson spoke again.

“You should...try to go back to sleep,” he said. “You’ve got to rest if those wounds are going to heal.”

House looked from one to the other of them, his eyes wide. Wilson had seldom seen him looking this open, or this vulnerable.

"If this is real, what are you two doing here? Don't you have to go home to the little woman?" He asked Wilson and then turned to Cuddy. "And what about the rugrat and the boytoy?"

"I broke our engagement off, and Rachel is with Marina." Cuddy answered simply as both men watched her. "What I had with Lucas was... pleasant, nice."

"You don't want pleasant, and nice." House said, with a trace of satisfaction through his exhaustion. "You never did."

"None of us do." Cuddy said, her gaze going up to encompass Wilson as well. "We don't do normal."

Wilson let out a small laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "I think you can say that again."

"We can talk about this later, but Wilson's right - you need to get some sleep, you're exhausted." Cuddy said, giving House's shoulder another squeeze. She went to stand up and felt a hand grabbing hers.

"Stay," House said.

"We're not going anywhere, House." Wilson said, repeating Cuddy's earlier words. "We're just cleaning up. _Somebody_ smashed a large mirror out there."

House looked away from them, his body tense. With a glance at Cuddy, Wilson realised what he wanted. He slowly kicked off his shoes and watched as Cuddy did the same. They lay down on either side of House, their bodies touching his. Wilson pulled a blanket over them.

"Sleep now, House. You're safe." Wilson said, reaching over his friend's body to briefly clasp Cuddy's hand. "We're with you and we're not leaving. Ever."


	2. Now, This

Light peeked through the curtains of House's bedroom, illuminating the hardwood floor and casting warmth over his bed. With Wilson and Cuddy turned on their sides and facing House, it was easy enough to accommodate three people. Wilson grunted, blinking open his eyes, and squinting as the bright light invaded his vision. He awoke to the sight of his arm tucked beneath House's neck, his hand resting on Cuddy's hip. House's head lay across Cuddy's breasts, her arm resting against House's. Wilson glanced down to see Cuddy looking up at him, her cheeks delicately flushed, and a smile on her face.

“Morning,” she greeted in a whisper.

“Morning,” Wilson replied, his own face breaking into a smile. He glanced over at the clock, eyes widening as his mind caught up with him and registered the time.

“It's nine A.M.”

“I know,” Cuddy replied. “We're late.”

Wilson couldn't recall a time when he'd seen Cuddy appear so relaxed. Her hair lay softly across her shoulders, her eyes appeared warm and calm. The fact that they were late didn't seem to be bothering her at all. They were supposed to have been at work an hour ago. Well, Cuddy and he were. House wasn't due in for another two hours. Or more. Wilson ran a hand over his eyes.

“We could always call out,” Cuddy told him, craning her neck a bit. Her current position didn't allow for much movement without the risk of waking House.

Wilson blinked at her dumbly. “Call out? Two...department heads and the Dean of Medicine?”

“It wouldn't be the first time,” Cuddy reminded him. “We've had to attend conferences before.”

“I...don't think this really qualifies,” Wilson responded doubtfully, gazing down at House.

“What? You think they're going to refuse?” Cuddy quirked an eyebrow.

Wilson laughed softly, shaking his head. “No, I suppose they couldn't. If it's an official order from the dean.”

Cuddy smirked up at him, causing Wilson's heart to flutter a little. House and Cuddy could both be just as determined and stubborn as one another when they wanted to be. Cuddy slid her cellphone off of House's nightstand, shifting slightly as she tried to slip away from where House was laying on top of her. She felt his fingers curl into her blouse in protest. She bit her lip, glancing up at Wilson.

Wilson swallowed thickly, feeling an ache rise in his chest. He knew that House was still afraid of them leaving, not entirely certain that they were really even there at all.

“You've got unlimited texting, right?” Wilson provided.

Cuddy sighed, nodding as she sent a series of texts to her secretary, the clinic, the front desk, and several important departments. 

She placed her phone back on the nightstand, carding her fingers through House's hair.   
He pressed into her touch and leaned back into Wilson. Wilson peered down at him.

“How long have you been pretending to sleep?” Wilson questioned.

“Still sleeping,” House mumbled, keeping his eyes shut.

Wilson merely shook his head. He winced, extracting his arm from where it lay numbly beneath House's neck. He bit his lip in hesitation before resting his hand on House's arm, brushing his thumb along the bone of House's wrist.

House opened his eyes slowly and looked from one to the other of them. His gaze travelled down to where Wilson was stroking his wrist, and across to where Cuddy had her fingers entangled in his hair. He shook his head slightly and closed his eyes.

"House?" Wilson exchanged a concerned glance with Cuddy. "It's okay. You're not hallucinating."

"No, the two of you just randomly decided that a House sandwich was something you've been craving all your life."

Wilson chuckled softly. "Who said anything about a House sandwich? Maybe a Wilson roll would go down better."

"Hey, who decided the boys get to be in the middle?" Cuddy added, giving Wilson a gentle smack with her free hand. "I have first dibs."

House opened his eyes again, reluctantly cracking a smile. "This is crazy, you know that." 

Cuddy stroked the side of his face and then leaned in closer, gently kissing him on the lips. 

"It would be crazy not to do this," she said when she'd pulled away. "When we all want it so much. There's a reason we've all been circling around each other the last few years."

"Lucas... "

She shook her head. "He's a kind, sweet man, but he's not what I want. I realise that now. I gave him back his ring last night, before coming here."

"Because I hacked a woman's leg off and killed her?" House's voice was rough, the raw pain still there from his experiences the day before.

"No, because I realised that it was you I loved." She looked over at Wilson. "The both of you. Together. Always together."

"And this is what you want?" House was looking at Wilson as well. "Not the wife and two kids that you've been chasing your whole life?" 

"Well," Wilson shrugged. "I always wanted to try a threesome."

"And Sam?"

"I don't think she'll want to join." 

"I meant --"

"House," Wilson said, "shut up." To drive his point home he leaned in and kissed House, covering the same territory Cuddy had. House's eyes went wide and then he hesitantly returned the kiss before breaking away with a gasp.

For the first time Wilson looked uncertain.

"House?"

House's hand went down to his thigh, fingers rubbing at the scar. 

"Are you in pain?" Cuddy sat up and looked around instinctively for House's Vicodin before remembering. 

"I'm always in pain," House snapped. "Yesterday didn't help. Fuck!"

"Would that help?" Wilson got off the bed and stood by House's side. 

"Bastard." House was fumbling around for his ibuprofen and finding the bottle he gulped down three pills. Not that they would help much but it was a familiar, comfortable action. He screwed himself around to the edge of the bed and sat there, rubbing his thigh while the other two looked down at him.

"Still want to try that threesome?" he asked.

Cuddy smiled gently down at House. “Maybe when your leg’s feeling better,” she said softly, stroking the hair from his forehead. 

House tensed under her touch. “Leg pain’s always a problem. Always going to be. The question is, is that going to be a problem for you?” 

Cuddy bit her lip, seeing the vulnerability in House’s gaze. She looked up helplessly at Wilson. 

Wilson appeared thoughtful for a moment, eyebrows knitting together in concentration. He nodded decisively before slipping a hand beneath House’s back. “Take the other side, would you?” he instructed Cuddy. 

House quirked an eyebrow curiously at Wilson. “This some weird position from the Jewish Kama Sutra?” 

Wilson merely rolled his eyes in reply as Cuddy and he lifted House to his feet. Wilson held most of House’s weight against him as they helped House to the bathroom. Wilson slipped both arms around House, clutching him closely against his body, the proximity making his heart race. House’s cheeks turned pink. “Could you turn on the water, please?” Wilson asked Cuddy. 

Cuddy nodded, reaching over into the bathtub to turn on the tap. Wilson sat House down on the toilet. He curled his fingers beneath the hem of House’s shirt, able to feel House’s breath catch as fingers met skin. He gazed down at House, feeling his cheeks flush at the intense eyes staring back at him. He slipped House’s t-shirt up and off, unable to keep himself from staring at House’s bare chest. It wasn’t as if this were the first time he’d seen House without a shirt. They’d gone swimming together in the past and he’d had to help him change during the infarction. 

But this was different. 

This wasn’t out of convenience. This wasn’t out of necessity. This was out of _want_.   
“Bathtub’s full,” Cuddy said quietly, breaking Wilson out of his daze. He looked over at Cuddy before indicating House’s pajama pants with his eyes. 

Cuddy swallowed thickly, stepping over to House and placing her hands on his hips. House leaned against her, his nose brushing her shoulder. 

“You smell nice,” he told her softly. 

Cuddy smiled at that, pulling down House’s underwear and pajama pants, taking them off. House curled in on himself a little, feeling exposed as Cuddy and Wilson remained clothed. 

“Come on,” Wilson urged him in a whisper, lifting House to his feet and guiding him toward the bathtub. 

With Cuddy’s help, Wilson managed to ease House into the warm water. House sighed with relief as the water caressed his aching thigh. Wilson dropped to his knees, placing his hands on the back of House’s shoulders. 

“Just relax,” Wilson whispered, his lips brushing the back of House’s neck. 

House shivered, his eyes falling shut as he nodded. Wilson’s fingers were a bit hesitant at first as they squeezed and pressed at the tense muscles. As he watched House relax beneath his touch, his fingers became a bit more bold, kneading the muscles with more certainty. Wilson leaned forward again, pressing his lips to House’s back. 

A shudder fell from House’s lips as Cuddy’s fingers gently grazed his chest. She dragged them lightly across his pectorals, offering extra attention to his nipples. She watched in awe as they hardened beneath her barely there touch. Wilson grew bolder still as he trailed kisses along House’s back, returning to his neck and biting down. House moaned in reply. Cuddy breathed out shakily, stroking over House’s ribs and stomach, his skin warm to the touch. When she reached the edge of his hip, House tensed. He looked up at Cuddy nervously, her finger mere inches from his thigh. Cuddy looked up at him sadly. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” 

Wilson slipped an arm around House’s chest. “It’s alright,” he whispered against House’s ear. 

House shifted slightly in the tub, nodding as Cuddy’s hand drifted lower. He groaned, pressing into her touch as it reached his cock. 

As Wilson’s hands continued to move expertly over House’s back, his shoulders, his neck, Wilson could feel the tension drain from House. He could feel every shiver, the way House’s heart pounded, and the sharp intake of breath as Cuddy’s fingers encircled House’s cock. 

House felt lost in sensation; the wet warmth of Wilson’s breath and the solidity of his touch, the gentleness of Cuddy’s fingers and her assured grip around him. The heat of the water was soothing his pain and the touch of his friends' hands was healing the ache in his heart that had been there for years. He was still half convinced that this wasn't real - that it _couldn't_ be real. Nothing this good could be trusted.

He thrust himself into Cuddy's hands and heard her soft laugh as she increased the pressure and her pace. He stopped all conscious thought as he surrendered to the twin pleasures of Cuddy and Wilson's expert touches. The last of the pain slipped away as he felt his climax building. With an inarticulate shout that might have been a warning, or might have been an expression of unbearable pleasure, he came hard into Cuddy's hands. 

He started to slip down to the water's surface but felt strong hands holding him in place. Wilson had him.

"When you nagged me all those years about alternative methods of pain relief why didn't you tell me you meant this." He said when he had his breath back. He felt languidly exhausted and drained of every last drop of energy. After the anguish of the day before, he felt a fragile pleasure. Too new to be tested, but a drop of hope where there hadn't been any.

Wilson ran light fingertips over his back as he recovered, his touch ghosting here and there. House relished every touch of those hands - they felt as comforting as he always imagined they might do. Cuddy had let him go and was now running some more water into the bath, replenishing the heat. House's eyes followed her movements, admiring those curves that had so enticed him decades ago and which he'd let slip through his fingers. Maybe he hadn't been ready then. Maybe he was ready now. To accept both of them into his heart.

He glanced up and behind him to see Wilson admiring the view as well. Their eyes met and they shared a possessive smile. _Ours_. 

Cuddy glanced up and saw them watching her. Her expression was one of amusement as she noticed the direction of their eyes.

"You don't have to just stare, boys. Not any more."

"The Make-a-Wish people finally came through," House quipped. Between the pain, his medication, the orgasm and the warm water lapping his body, he felt languid and boneless. His further contribution was going to be minimal, but he didn't see why they couldn't continue without him - he had eyes. He stood up out of the water, catching them by surprise. The water dripped off his long body and for once he wasn't self-conscious of the scar that ruined his thigh. They'd see it, they'd seen all of him and they were still here. 

He reached for a towel and wrapped it around himself, stepping out of the bath and taking a seat on the end furthest from the shower head. He reached over and pulled out the plug, draining the water.

"Shower is free. You two are a bit overdressed."

Wilson stared at him, instant anxiety in his eyes but Cuddy pulled him close and kissed him until he was breathless. She slipped his shirt off his shoulders, laying delicate kisses along his chest, and teasing at his nipples. His pants came next and by this time he was returning the favor, her clothes joining his in an untidy puddle on the floor. When they were both naked, House looked them over appreciatively. He'd seen Cuddy before of course, and had glimpses of Wilson, but now he could openly admire them both and marvel that the two of them were here, like this, with him.

Cuddy turned the water on and they stepped under the showerhead. There wasn't much room but they pressed against each other and let the water cascade around them. Wilson slipped his fingers inside Cuddy, and she stroked his cock to hardness. 

Despite his exhaustion House felt himself beginning to stir again as he watched them. Underneath the towel he played his own hand over his cock in a lazy counterpoint to their sex.

Wilson was every inch as Bonnie had described him, his attention so focused on Cuddy he didn't appear to even be aware of House watching them. House found that focus of attention on someone else's needs both alien and compelling.

Cuddy on the other hand was putting on a show. Her body writhing this way and that, taking everything that Wilson was giving her and making sure that House knew exactly how good she was. This was the Cuddy of his pole dance fantasies. This was the Cuddy he'd sparred with for years, the woman who excited him like no-one else ever had. As Wilson fed his soul, Cuddy fed his body.

When Wilson lifted her up against himself and entered her in one quick motion House thrust with him, his hand quickening on his own cock.

Cuddy gasped Wilson’s name, her fingers grasping at his hair as Wilson pressed Cuddy against the shower wall. His thrusts were rhythmic and direct, his fingers slick with water as he worked them expertly between Cuddy’s legs. His mouth was just as attentive, licking small circles over her nipples, mouthing at every inch of hot, wet skin. 

House groaned, thumbing slowly over the head of his cock, wanting to draw this out. 

Cuddy clawed at Wilson’s back, her fingers sinking into his hips and drawing him forward, wanting him to melt into the pleasurable heat along with her. He shuddered as Cuddy’s lips met his neck, nipping at his skin. His thrusts grew faster then, pulling Cuddy closer against him, his head growing fuzzy as he quickly felt himself approaching release. 

House grunted, his hips lifting ever so slightly off the toilet seat as he thrust carelessly into his own hand. He could feel Wilson’s moans at the base of his spine, as he heard them bounce of the tiled walls, nearly feel the wetness between Cuddy’s legs as he watched Wilson slide into her. He nearly lost it when he realized that Wilson was staving off his own pleasure in order to make Cuddy come first. 

She cried out sharply, her fingernails raking down Wilson’s back, leaving delicious lines of wanton red in their wake. Wilson wasn’t far behind, coming with a deep groan as he buried his face against Cuddy’s hair, thankful for the support of the shower wall as his knees buckled slightly. With a few more short strokes, House spilled over a trembling hand, eyes never leaving the sight of a flushed Wilson and Cuddy, drenched in a curtain of hot water. 

To Wilson’s credit, he managed to keep Cuddy balanced while he reached over to turn off the tap. Without the running water, the sound of broken, shallow breaths was amplified, the three of them joined in a symphony of pleasure. Wilson gently set Cuddy down on her feet, before his arms were wrapped tightly around her, placing soft, frantic kisses over her cheeks. 

Cuddy smiled up at him through heavy lidded eyelashes. She slipped a towel around each of them before stepping out of the shower, walking toward House. She leaned down to kiss lips. House’s arms wound around her tiny waist, his tongue slipping into her mouth as he deepened the kiss. Cuddy’s fingers came to rest around the base of House’s neck as Wilson too stepped out of the shower. 

He began walking back toward the bedroom when he felt a tug at his towel. He turned around to see Cuddy poised on House’s left leg, her cheek tucked against House’s neck, and a look of vulnerability in House’s eyes. Wilson swallowed thickly, rooted to the spot by House’s gaze. He stepped toward House, slipping an arm around House’s shoulders, nearly shivering at the press of warm bare skin against his own. 

Wilson leaned down, lightly brushing his lips against House’s, drawing him close. He thumbed along House’s jaw, tilting his head up a bit as he swept the tip of his tongue across House’s bottom lip. House’s hand closed around Wilson’s hip as he pressed his tongue into Wilson’s mouth. 

When Wilson pulled away, his gaze was warm, his thumb lightly moving across House’s cheek. 

“We should lie down,” he suggested. “No point in three department heads catching a cold.” 

"Is that what your mother told you?" House managed, his voice hoarse. 

"Strangely enough the topic of what you should do after having mindblowing sex in a bathroom with your best friend and your boss never came up." Wilson tugged at House, helping him to his feet. "Come on, let's go and get dried off."

* * *

They ended up back in House's bed, comfortably pressed against each other. Cuddy had made calls to both the hospital and Marina, ensuring that no catastrophes were happening in her absence and Wilson had checked in with his department. When they were on their second round of calls, House had threatened to throw both phones out the window and they'd put them away. 

"We should get something to eat," Wilson mumbled. He didn't really want to move but it was almost noon, and it seemed like something they should do. 

"Later," House said languidly. He appeared ready to spend the whole day in bed. He'd had another dose of painkillers and Cuddy had redressed the wound on his shoulder. He looked tired but content, or as content as House could ever look. Sometimes Wilson saw him looking at them, as if he could scarcely believe that they were there. Wilson couldn't blame him, he could barely believe it himself. He reached out and touched Cuddy's hand lightly and she returned the pressure with a smile. 

"We will," she said, answering his question. "Just, not now. Later." 

Later. Later, there would be a lot of things to be resolved. Where this would go, how they would make it work. How people would react, how things would go at work. He needed to tell Sam it was over for the second time, and Cuddy would have to figure out what to tell Rachel. 

He looked at House and saw that he'd fallen asleep, resting comfortably on his left side. Cuddy was curled up in front of him, Wilson was pressed up behind him. 

There were a lot of things to think about. Later.

For now, things were just how he wanted them.


End file.
